


steps in the morning light

by noodlescooz



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Good Parent Narcissa Black Malfoy, Severus Snape Has a Heart, Severus Snape Lives
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:41:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25917493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noodlescooz/pseuds/noodlescooz
Summary: In a place where he took his "last" breath, the body of Severus Snape is never found.Many believed it to be stolen, those who mourned left to imagine the gruesome ways in which a dead traitor could be treated.Three thousand miles away a man takes his first step in a new life that is earned, alone. Or so he believes, until a letter appears on his doorstep.
Relationships: Narcissa Black Malfoy/Severus Snape
Comments: 1
Kudos: 11





	steps in the morning light

_He did not know why he was doing it, why he was approaching the dying man: He did not know what he felt as he saw Snape's white face, and the fingers trying to staunch the bloody wound at his neck. Harry took off the Invisibility Cloak and looked down upon the man that he hated, whose widening black eyes found Harry as he tried to speak. Harry bent over him, and Snape seized the front of his robes and pulled him close.  
  
_Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Page 657

"Take . . . it. . . . Take . . . it. . . ."

The worlds garble in his mouth as he struggles for air and he does not know, in this moment of bared truth, how to ask to ask for what he needs. He orders, and lays helplessly as Potter and his friends remove the last shread of dignity from him, the cooling feeling of being released as he watches the luminescent swirls of his history gather in the flask held before him. He shouldn't be as suprised as he is, in this moment of ultimate vulnerability, to see these three standing above him, each with a different expression of horror and sympathy. 

He orders again, for the boy to look at him, the corners of his vision tinging with black as the siren's call of rest-- _sweet rest, how long as it been?_ \-- beckons him forward. Harry Potter's green eyes, the remaining liminal thread of his only family, fades into the pool of shadows that pull him under. In his mind he separates himself, the disassociation bringing him to a place of peace, a place where he no longer walks the tightrope. He sinks into the comfort, blatently ignoring the part of him that screams for logic and preparation and he seeks a different set of green eyes. 

_  
“Lil, do you ever think our taste will change?”_

_He asks the question with the tickling grass pressing into the blades of his shoulders, the clouds passing overhead. The feeling of powered sugar lay thick on his tongue, and for a brief moment, Severus is simply happy. He reflects on the morning, spent skivving off his Defense homework, their trip to Hogsmeade, a bulging sack of sweets laying between them. These fleeting moments between them were becoming so rare, but Lily's presence never stopped being a panacea for his agitations, which seem to only grow stronger as the days pass._

_“I mean for candy.” He explains, pressing on. “I love sugar quills and fidge flies, but don’t really care for lemon drops or Bertie’s beans. D’you think I’ll always be like that?”_

_Lily smiles indulgently at Severus’s musings, a contemplative expression coming next. “I don’t know,” she answers honestly._

_She takes another small bite of her chocolates before wrapping them up and setting them in the bag, joining him by laying in the grass. “They could. It’d be just like anything else – our tastes are bound to change as we grow up.”_

_“Hmmm.” He peers over to her imagining that their preferences, candy or otherwise, will remain constant. “I don’t know that I want that.” He sighs, popping another candy in his mouth, shifting it to the side so he can still speak. “It’s nice knowing what you like, you know? I think it’d drive me mad to think that I liked chocolate only to wake up one day and find that it gives me a nasty headache and that now my preference is something different, like caramel.” He grimaces, the expression falling into something more pleasant at the sound of her laughter. A small hand finds his and squeezes reassuringly._

_"I doubt you'll ever change that much, Sev."  
_

In the recesses of his mind where he's floating, a memory of a memory of the taste of sugar in his mouth, he feels hands on him. They are reaching for... his pocket? Somewhere else in the mind of Severus Snape there is a whoop of victory, and cognisant understanding of what has just been found. But he cannot connect to that portion of his mind-- it is too far away and he is so comfortable, _too_ comfortable. He does not want to be awakened from it, despite that before-- if he is even able to recall much from before-- he had prepared himself for this exact moment. 

He thinks that he hears a woman's voice, maybe two, and he knows that there is something sliding down his throat. It tastes like peppermint, and he fights the urge to gag. The introduction of this liquid ignites something in Severus, his mind begging to be put back to pieces. It slams down on him, ceasless cries of attention, and he wants nothing more than to tell it to be silent so that he can continue to rest. Instead it ignores him and begins the work , shoving himself back together in a way that feels invasive and electric. In another part of him he feels a fire beginning. Through his mind's disruption he hears a curse, a yell, and a stampeding of several feet, along with the loss of presence. He doesn't miss it, not when the pain is so demanding of him in this moment. 

He is alone again.

In a violent jerk Severus's body convulses, and his eyes open to the same dark room where they closed. His throat, the source of the heat, burns with an intensity that makes his eyes prickle. As he attempts to connect his mind and his limbs, he realizes his own vulnerability in this moment. How many times must he find himself in this building, thrown across the ground with no regard? He finds himself a man of no masters, though previously of two. The tears that had begun in physical pain morph into ones of sorrow as Severus Snape, fully at the end of his emotional tether, gives in to the culmination of his failures.

He wiggles his fingers and his toes, his mouth collecting the saline evidence of his weakness. There is no time to waste, and he feels no compulsion to continue what he has started, his body on the ground evidence that he has reliquished his part in this event, regardless of its outcome.

Thinking of what he forcibly calls a home, of the unmade, unwashed bed-- with what little reserve stregth he remains with he clenches himself together, prays to a god he thinks must despise him at this point, and apparates.

A pool of blood and an empty vial are all that remains of Severus Tobias Snape when the Shack is entered again, hours later.


End file.
